


Requiem

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [10]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Past Character Death, if you've been reading these for fluffy epilogue shenanigans, just miserable miserable angst, skip this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 08:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18989029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Logan and Virgil reminisce.Love and Other FairytalesVerse





	Requiem

**Author's Note:**

> hey sugar, this deviates quite a bit from the tone of most of these oneshots, and you wont lose anything by skipping it (no plot important stuff, just gratuitous emotion) so feel free

Virgil’d gotten pretty used sharing a bed over the years – when he woke up, groggy and displeased, it didn’t take long to figure out it was because the space next to him was empty. It had gone cold, so it must have been for a while.

He blinked in the half-light. His husband was sitting at the desk, looking into a mirror. Virgil stayed quiet. Logan wasn’t prone to vanity – this was decidedly bizarre behavior.

Logan closed his eyes firmly, luminescent silver even in the dimness, and then paused like that.

And then he opened them, and they were brown.

Virgil’s chest constricted.

“Hey, L,” he said softly, and Logan startled, his eyes flickering back to silver the second he stopped concentrating on the glamour.

“…Good morning,” he said quietly.

“Are you alright?” whispered Virgil.

Logan swallowed.

“I experienced a… distressing dream,” said Logan mechanically, “I could not… remember the shade, precisely, and I woke and was-”

He swallowed convulsively.

“…Exceedingly upset,” he finished.

“You should have woke me up,” Virgil chastised gently.

Logan’s mouth twitched, but there was no humor in.

“We both know this particular mood is contagious,” he said, “I did not… I did not want to drag you down with me,”

Virgil just shook his head, flipping the cover back and looking deliberately at Logan.

Logan sighed, crossing the room and crawling back into bed.

He was right, though Virgil hated to admit it. He could feel it creeping up on him, a grief that sometimes felt to large for his body.

“You had the right shade,” he murmured into Logan’s hair, “You looked just like him,”

Logan’s arms tightened a fraction.

“And Patton’s were gold,” Virgil said, “Never seen eyes that color on a human,”

“Like wheat fields,” Logan agreed, and the Virgil could feel his trembling smile against his own chest.

“Roman’s were green,” Logan continued.

“Yeah,” hummed Virgil, “New leaves. Especially in the sun,”

“Your sister’s?” prompted Logan.

Virgil hesitated for a fraction of a moment, but it was enough for panic to pool, low and acidic in his gut. And then she came to his mind’s eye, and he relaxed.

“Greta’s were brown,” he said, his voice just barely shaking, “Darker than Thomas’s. Trudi’s were blue,”

They continued, eyes and hair and the shades of their skin, the precise inflection of how Thomas said “oh my goodness gracious,” and the exact pitch of Patton’s hum when someone kissed his throat. Greta’s favorite swear words and the texture of Roman’s hair between their fingers, Logan’s parents favorite musicals and the debates that ensued, Trudi’s little six-year-old fingers always covered in dirt and the feeling of being embraced by tiny, grouchy Ms. Gage and somehow still feeling small no matter how tall they were in comparison.

It was no use trying to stay composed. They always ended up in the same spot when this happened.

Logan wasn’t making any noise but he was shaking, and occasionally his whole body would jerk with a silent sob. Virgil was less quiet, his breath hissing through his teeth and his face pressed against Logan’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” said Logan miserably.

“It’s okay,” said Virgil, pressing their lips firmly, a comforting pressure for both of them, “But Patton would be upset with you. Apologizing for your feelings,”

Logan chuckled wetly.

“Roman, however, would be quite pleased with us,” he said, “He thought kissing was an acceptable response to all emotions,”

Virgil laughed back, sniffing and pressing their foreheads together.

Logan leaned into it, bordering on too hard.

“I love you,” Virgil said, “And I know you- you do know this doesn’t-?”

“I know you do not think me insufficient,” said Logan, “Just I do not find you lacking in any way,”

Virgil swallowed, his throat clicking.

“I just miss them,” he croaked, “so much,”

Logan let out a shuddering breath.

“I know,” he said. His voice had gone weak and high. “I know. Me, too,”

In the morning, life would go on, mostly happy and mostly content, as it had for a hundred years and a hundred before that.

But for now, in that dark, timeless bubble before the dawn, a prince and a changeling remember their humans, and mourn.

**Author's Note:**

> im [ tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors ](%E2%80%9Dtulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D)  
> over on tumblr, and i probably cried as much while writing this as you did reading it

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [let the mourners come](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543357) by [centreoftheselights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/centreoftheselights/pseuds/centreoftheselights)




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